


Decoding Riggs

by bag_of_catZY (catZY)



Category: Lethal Weapon (TV), Leverage
Genre: Action, Case Fic, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Multi, Slice of Life, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catZY/pseuds/bag_of_catZY
Summary: Trying to understand Riggs was like working at an archaeological dig. It was hard and thankless work, with only a few dusty trinkets and gems uncovered here and there. Mostly though, there was just dirt and bones. Lots and lots of dirt and bones.
Turns out, Riggs has got a lot more skeletons in his closet than just a dead pregnant wife. Or, the one where Riggs has an estranged twin, a man who calls himself Quinn.





	1. An Odd Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched all the new episodes of Lethal Weapon (TV) last week and I am officially obsessed. I always liked the character of Mr. Quinn in Leverage and I was sad that he was only in two episodes. So, I got to thinking what if Martin Riggs and Mr. Quinn are actually twins? What would happen when Riggs and Murtaugh met the Leverage Crew? Well, read on to find out!

They say hindsight is twenty-twenty. And it was, it really was.

The first clue that there was something in Riggs’ past that was as big and as dark as Riggs’ dead wife and unborn child had hardly been a blip on Murtaugh’s radar. Murtaugh hadn’t even thought it was a clue.

It had all started with a concussion. Well, it had really started with yet another high speed car chase (and Murtaugh should have been more worried that those were become commonplace in his life, practically mundane, after just a few short weeks with Riggs as a partner), followed by a short second story swan dive by Riggs after the suspect that had almost given Murtaugh another heart attack, and finished with a baseball bat to Riggs’ head on top of all that.

 

 

 

 

Murtaugh wasn’t surprised to walk in on Riggs giving the nurse a hard time by attempting to get out of bed. Key word: attempting. Riggs was a stubborn man by nature, who only seemed to get more stubborn the more fucked up he was.

When the nurse caught sight of Murtaugh, she said exasperatedly, “Detective, please tell your partner to stay in bed and stop aggravating his concussion.”

Riggs said loudly, his speech worryingly slurred, “Well, _Detective_ , tell this nurse here that staying in bed is precisely what I am gonna be doing _once I’m home_ , and after a bottle of Jack.”

The nurse looked like she wanted to clobber him on the head and give him another concussion.

In the name of preventing further bodily harm, Murtaugh put a restraining arm around his partner and told him in a firm tone, “I am taking you home and you are sleeping on the couch, so I can make sure you don’t expire in the middle of the night.”

Riggs muttered some unflattering things under his breath. Murtaugh rolled his eyes. It was like Riggs didn’t care that Murtaugh was trying to save his life. Oh, right, Riggs really didn’t care.

Murtaugh half-heartedly listened to the nurse’s care instructions—this wasn’t his first concussion—before hauling Riggs to his feet and helping him get signed out against medical advice.

By the time they got home, Riggs was barely awake and definitely not coherent. Trish met them at the door with a concerned look on her face. Murtaugh had called ahead to let her know what was going on. The kids were all in bed.

Murtaugh gently guided Riggs onto their living room couch. Trish brought over a glass of water and helped Riggs drink it. After Riggs shook his head no more, Trish set the glass aside and brushed back the wild curls hanging in his eyes. Riggs smiled dopily up at her. She smiled back with a ‘poor baby’ look in her eyes. Murtaugh would never show it, but he honestly felt the same way a lot of the time he was around Riggs.

After they wrapped Riggs up in a blanket and got him horizontal on the couch, Murtaugh said to his wife, “Go on, honey, I’ll keep watch. Gotta wake him every hour to make sure he’s okay.”

With a goodnight kiss and a last concerned look thrown Riggs’ way, Trish made her way upstairs to bed.

Murtaugh settled himself into the nearby armchair to keep watch. After two turns of prodding Riggs awake, Murtaugh heard the light footsteps of his wife padding back down the stairs. He looked up at her to see what was wrong.

She came over and lightly kissed him on the forehead. In answer to his unspoken question, she said, “Nothing’s wrong, baby. Just woke up and wanted to see how you two were doing.” She gestured at Riggs. “How is he?”

“Okay. All things considered.”

Trish looked at Riggs with sad eyes. “All things considered. I wish that didn’t have to be a qualifier for everything in his life.”

“Yeah.” Murtaugh agreed softly.

She seemed to come to some conclusion because she straightened up and said decisively, “You should come upstairs.”

“I want to, babe, believe me, I do. But I can’t leave him alone right now.”

A small smile quirked her lips. “Then bring him along.”

Murtaugh opened his mouth to object. Riggs wasn’t some dog to just allow into their bed. But then he thought better of it. Frankly, Murtaugh would much rather rest in his own bed and share the burden of watching over Riggs with his wife.

Murtaugh gently shook Riggs awake, and then the three of them stumbled up the stairs with Riggs sandwiched between the Murtaugh’s. Navigating the stairs was practically an extreme sport. Riggs was by no means a small man.

They heaved Riggs onto the bed and leaned back to take a breather.

As Murtaugh worked off Riggs’ shoes, Riggs opened his eyes, grinned sloppily at Murtaugh, and slurred, “Hey, you gotta buy me dinner first. Or, at least a drink first. I ain’t choosy.”

Trish chuckled and Murtaugh rolled his eyes.

“You don’t need any more drink in you. And you don’t appreciate my cooking as it ought to be appreciated.”

Riggs pouted. Murtaugh tried not to be charmed.

With a little work, they managed to shove Riggs towards the center of the bed. He curled up and fell asleep. Trish slipped in on one side while Murtaugh slipped in on the other. She carded her fingers through Riggs’ wild blond curls and smiled fondly at him.

“Don’t go petting him now. For all your comparisons of him to Roscoe, he isn’t actually a dog.”

Trish rolled her eyes, but stopped playing with Riggs’ hair.

“Goodnight, Roger.”

“Goodnight, Trish.”

 

 

 

 

Murtaugh was woken way too soon by Riggs rolling over him in his rush to get to the bathroom. Murtaugh, half-awake but fully alarmed, followed Riggs to the bathroom. He found Riggs bent over the toilet bowl, heaving up what little there was in his stomach.

After Riggs was done, he stumbled to the sink to rinse out his mouth and splash some water onto his face. When he looked up at the mirror, the strangest thing happened. Murtaugh saw that Riggs eyes were still hazy from the concussion.

Riggs reached for his reflection and said in a lost voice, “Quinn? What are you doing here?”

_Who the hell was Quinn?_

When Riggs’ hand hit the hard surface of the mirror, he seemed to snap out of his confused daze. He shook his head as if to clear it, but then groaned at the pain that action caused. Murtaugh helped him back to bed, where Trish was watching them with concern. Murtaugh kept his questions to himself for now.

 

 

 

 

The second clue came when Riggs was at the Murtaugh household early and bright one morning to pick up Murtaugh up for a case. RJ and Riana were in some major tiff about their parents not treating them fairly. Trish was busy with the baby, who was crying up a storm, and therefore unable to help settle the score. Murtaugh was at his wit’s end with his two older children. And Riggs was leaning against one corning of the counter and watching all the family drama with a bemused expression on his face.

After RJ and Riana had stormed off, Riggs had clapped Murtaugh on the back and said comfortingly, “Hey, don’t worry about it, siblings close in age are always going back and forth between wanting to tear each other’s faces off and being best friends. You should have seen me and—”

Riggs abruptly cut himself off, but Murtaugh now knew another piece of the puzzle that was Riggs. Riggs had a sibling close in age to himself.

“I should have seen you and who?” Murtaugh asked with one eyebrow raised, even though he knew Riggs was unlikely to reveal anymore.

Riggs smiled one of those crazy smile of his—the ones that did nothing to hide the bleeding raw edges or the loneliness. “Nobody. I haven’t talked to my family in over a decade. It’s all old history.”

Old history. Right. Murtaugh wished understanding Riggs was as easy as picking up and reading a history book.


	2. Clone Wars

It started out like any other Monday. A call to an armed robbery down on San Pedro and Boyd.

Once Murtaugh and Riggs arrived on site, a uniformed cop came up to them to update them on the situation.

“Two men. At least one is armed. There have been several gunshots, but it’s unclear if anyone was hurt or killed. They haven’t made any demands so far, nor have they threatened to hurt any hostages.”

Murtaugh said, “Thank you, Johnson, we’ll take it from here.”

Johnson nodded in acknowledgement and left to do whatever he had been doing before the two detectives had arrived.

Murtaugh and Riggs walked over to the surveillance van in search for more information.

As they walked over, Murtaugh said, “So, what do you think?”

Riggs shrugged. “That situation report told us really nothing definitive. We don’t know about possible injuries or casualties. We don’t even know what they want, except money, I guess. At least we know there’s two of them and that they have guns.”

Murtaugh sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Let’s hope they have eyes or ears on the inside.”

Once they reached the van, Murtaugh asked the tech guy, “So, what have you got for us?”

“No visuals, sorry. One of the men shot out the cameras before they could get a good look of his face. But we do have audio. Unfortunately, no one’s saying much. Either the two robbers are communicating by sign or not at all.”

All of a sudden, a man’s voice came over the speakers, low and frustrated, “Why won’t you just fucking stay down!”

Another voice growled, “Stay down? Why, pretty boy, we’re just getting started. If you think I’m going to let you walk off with the package, you’re fucked in the head.”

Murtaugh said, realization dawning, “Wait a minute. Are we sure the two robbers are working together? Because it sounds like they’re both after the same thing and fighting each other for it. Riggs, what do you think?”

Murtaugh turned around to hear his partner’s opinion only to find him striding off towards the bank like a man on a mission. Murtaugh cursed and ran after him. _Stupid cowboys and their stupid death wishes._

Murtaugh managed to catch Riggs at the door. He grabbed Riggs’ arm and swung him around to try to stop him.

“What’s wrong with you? You can’t just go running off like that!”

Riggs looked pale and feverish. Murtaugh didn’t understand. His partner had seemed steady enough on the way here. What about hearing the robbers’ voices had unsettled Riggs?

Riggs didn’t answer, just pulled his arm out of Murtaugh’s grip and stepped through the bank’s entrance. Murtaugh knew he had no hope of restraining his partner, so he sent a prayer up above and followed after the lunatic.

Once inside, Murtaugh was met with a mostly familiar scene. Scared people lay face down on the ground. However, not everything was typical. For one, there was the two men, neither masked, trying their damnedest to beat each other to death in the middle of the bank. And for another, one of the men bore more than a passing resemblance to Riggs.

Murtaugh had barely a second to note the fight before the two men sprung apart and turned to face the detectives. One of the men was short, with long, straight brown hair and the faint shadow of a goatee. The other man made Murtaugh’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. That man could have been Riggs if Riggs was better groomed, with no facial hair and long hair tied back, and better dressed, in a suit and tie.

“Quinn.” The word fell from Riggs’ mouth like a barely audible exhalation.

Riggs’ double seemed equally shocked at the sight of Riggs. He recovered first, muttered a curse, and reached for something in his pocket. Murtaugh and Riggs instinctively brought up their guns, but it was too late. Smoke billowed to fill the room. The detectives couldn’t risk shooting through the smoke and accidentally hitting an innocent bystander.

By the time the smoke cleared, the two men were gone, and Murtaugh was left with a lot more questions about his partner than he ever knew was even possible.


End file.
